The Naked Drinking Club (13 page)

‘Sounds like you’ve needed some help if you can’t remember who you’ve been phoning.’ He laughed again. I could tell that he fancied himself as a bit of a character – but then again, all the best people do. ‘Well, what are the chances? You phoning the Duffys, and getting me, when it’s not even my house. I answer the phone because my sister happens to be away tonight, and it turns out I’m a radio DJ with access to listeners through my show, who might be able to help with what you’re looking for. Think about it.’

I had to agree with him, nutcase or not. ‘So what do you think I should do then?’

‘Well, just to add something even more bizarre into the equation, my brother-in-law down here, the Duffy part of things, is a minister!’

‘Oh right, OK, so you mean he could put out a call as well? In his church?’

‘I was more thinking his parish magazine. He could reach quite a few people in Sydney.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Were they church-goers, these relatives, or relative?’

‘Relative. I don’t know. Doubt it.’ I couldn’t see, in the circumstances, how she could go to church.

‘Well, it’s worth a try, kid.’

‘What’s next then?’ I was dizzy from oversucking on my Marlboro, a brand usually too strong for me.

‘I could take more information from you on what you know about John Duffy, talk to Bob, my sister’s husband, and I could put out a call on air for anyone who might know of him, and ask them to call the station. How does that sound to you?’

‘Good, yeah. Good, thanks, but that’ll be in Brisbane and I don’t know if he’s there or in Sydney.’

‘Sure, well, it’s a start, and it’s covering two more areas than you were five minutes ago, isn’t it? And you really don’t
know
for sure if it’s Sydney or Brisbane or Melbourne even, by the sounds of it, do you, love?’

‘No, I don’t. I don’t know much at all.’

‘Exactly, and Australia is a big place.’

He spoke to me as if I was about ten years old; I finished my cigarette in record time and stamped on it.

‘OK, so tell me, what you do know then?’ I could hear him scrabbling around looking for a piece of paper.

‘John Duffy was in the Australian army around 1965. In 1966 he met a woman called Madeline Thomson. She was a nurse and they married and moved to Sydney or Brisbane, not sure. I think she came on the ten-pound package, maybe – don’t know – but more than likely because I don’t think they had much money, and she was from Newcastle.’

‘Newcastle, England, not Newcastle, Oz?’

‘Yeah, England. I didn’t know there was one here.’

‘Oh yeah, they’ve got everything English here, except the weather.’ He amused himself no end. ‘That’s all you have on this, kid?’

‘Yeah, that’s all I know.’ I liked his corny detective talk.

‘Do you have a phone number, Kerry? Do you know I haven’t even asked where you’re calling from?’

‘I’m in Sydney, I’m working here. But Hank, there’s one more thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s very important that you tell them a Joanna Thomson is looking for them.’

‘Is that your mum?’

‘No, but I can’t explain that right now, it’s a long story.’

‘So I’d better take your number, then.’

‘Yeah, sure, there’s a phone at the place I work but we can’t really receive calls too much, it’s more for emergencies. I’ll give it to you just in case but don’t overuse it, will you?’

‘No, I won’t, unless I have something concrete for you, but I’ll give you my number. I’ll be going home tomorrow and I’ve got my show on Wednesday night, so I’ll put something out then.’

‘What will you say?’ Despite my eagerness I didn’t want to completely fuck up someone else’s life unnecessarily.

‘Just that there’s a person trying to trace someone by the name of John Duffy, and all the stuff you gave me; I don’t want to go upsetting anyone’s life now, Kerry. You understand, don’t you?’

‘Why did you say that?’ It was almost as if he knew more than he was letting on.

‘Just making sure, kid, that’s all.’

‘OK, thanks.’

The car pulled up alongside the phone booth, with Jim tooting. I signalled that I would be one minute.

‘Hank, can you play a tune to go with the message?’

‘Well, that might be stretching things a little, but I’ll do my best. It’s a country show though, so I wouldn’t be playing any of your pop crap.’

‘Good, I hate that myself.’

‘What do you want then? But I can’t promise, mind you.’

‘Can you play Bob Dylan’s “You’re A Big Girl Now”, please?’

‘Well, that’s not pop, but it’s not country either. I tell you what, I’ll do my very best.’

‘Please, just play it, Hank, will you?’

‘OK, just for you, love. I’ll see if I can dig it out from somewhere.’

‘Thanks, I really appreciate this.’ I was trying to turn round and shield my eyes from Scotty, who had his arse pressed against the phone box; I could see the Danish rolling around in the back of the car in response to it. I tried to ignore him as I took down Hank’s number in Brisbane on the inside of my Marlboro packet.

‘Got to go now, Hank. I’ve got people waiting for me outside.’

‘OK, love, I’ll be in touch whenever I have any news.’

‘Uh-huh, thanks now.’

‘Take care, love, see ya.’

I hung up, folded away the phone book pages again and got in the car, laughing reluctantly with the rest of them. From a random phone call in six minutes, I’d come further in my search than I had in six weeks. This all felt right.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

IT WAS WARM
and turquoise out there. I didn’t miss the Edinburgh buildings, the austere gloomy Georgian sandstone, and the pasty tight-lipped people that lived and worked behind it. Fuck that, I thought, as I drank a pineapple and guava smoothie outside a café, updating my ‘Paintings Sold’ list in my notebook. I liked the mornings alone; there was always enough chatter with the others during the car journeys in the late afternoon to exhaust me before I even knocked on a door. I had quickly learned to pace myself, and was beginning to feel like an actress exhausted all day from putting on a show every night.

I was feeling positive again after my call to Hank, and fairly pleased with myself, a rare occurrence. Things felt as if they were being dealt with better. I was happy walking along the street, I saw the good in people; I smiled at a child who passed by who was humming the
Batman
theme. The sun seemed a good thing for a change, the slight breeze was perfect and the day felt as though it had a sense of purpose. I had decided, when I woke up, that I would start my life again.

I was full of promises. Big and small. Small ones like: I must get fit, I must write to my granddad, I must eat better, and I must save more money. And big ones, things that were harder to change: I must stop having sex with strangers, I must stop drinking, and I must start to have a life plan.

The queue in Hercus Loan, the pawnbroker, was longer than before. I stood behind a man in stained trousers that smelt of layers of drink. Everybody was quiet. There was a real absence
of
angry people in Sydney. Even the odd drunk would just wander along aimlessly. Back home everybody was always shouting, all the tramps and winos were raging against the world all the time.

The man behind the counter took the optic out of his left eye and finished off the cigarette in the ashtray on the counter.

‘I’ll give you one hundred and seventy-five dollars, mate, and no more.’

‘It’s a bloody good watch that, reckon it’s worth more.’

‘Well, fair play to you, mate, if you can get it elsewhere, but that’s my price, end of, I’m afraid.’

‘Go on then.’ The man shuffled a little in embarrassment.

I waited my turn and then handed over my ticket. I hummed a tune under my breath while he searched the drawers beneath the counter for my item, happy to be a collector for a change. I paid him the cash, putting my grandmother’s ring back on my finger for what I had promised to myself was the last time. It wasn’t coming off again.

Greg and Anaya called me into their office when I returned. Greg had been away for the last three Saturday evenings on some kind of business trip. I had never been asked into the office before. It made me nervous.

Greg stood behind a desk surrounded by at least twenty Blue Mountains, with lots of credit-card-authorisation forms and ashtrays strewn all over it. There was a small storeroom off the office behind him, with more paintings piled up in their landscape groups. Anaya was sitting on the edge of Greg’s desk, swinging her perfect legs and eating a sandwich, which she shared with Greg. I sensed a problem, as Greg appeared slightly tense.

‘Hey, Greg, how was your trip?’ I asked, keeping it light, but sneaking a look over to Anaya, hoping she’d reciprocate, which she didn’t.

‘Yeah, good, thanks, mate, good. I’ll tell you about it later maybe. It was interesting.’

‘What have I done wrong?’ I asked to pre-empt any awkwardness.

‘It’s bad, Kerry, we’re gonna have to let you go,’ said Anaya, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows.

‘What?’ My heart started thumping. Now I was fucked, but at least I had the ring, I thought.

‘She’s taking the piss, mate, just ignore her.’

Anaya laughed and ate her sandwich. I just didn’t understand her game with me, and found her a curious mixture of hostility and flirtatiousness. She had practically ignored me in the weeks that followed the kiss episode.

‘Sorry, I’m joking, yeah?’

‘Yeah, ha fucking ha,’ I said, trying to be offhand.

‘No,’ Greg went on, ‘it’s just your folder’s missing a painting?’

‘That can’t be right.’

‘’Fraid so. We check the folders every morning. We left it yesterday because I was away overnight and Anaya forgot, but we’ve been through them now and yours is short. What happened Sunday?’

‘Nothing.’ I felt my face and neck go red-hot. ‘It was a quiet area, didn’t really work for me but I sold two. Two in two houses.’ I lied to cover the amount of time I was with Robin.

Anaya looked me up and down slowly, and then held my gaze. She knew exactly the kind of thing I’d been up to, and she was loving my awkwardness. Greg didn’t notice; he began rummaging around in the paperwork and maps on his desk. While he did, she upped her flirtatious looks towards me. So that’s what kind of day it was today – a flirty Anaya who liked teasing me.

‘Neutral Bay, yeah?’

‘Yep, but Sunday and raining. It was a bit shit, really.’

‘Hey, guess what?’ said Anaya. ‘Andrea and Karin had their best day, Andrea sold four and Karin five.’

‘Yeah, they did well. So what happened to you, then?’ Greg backed her up.

Those fucking Danish with their pretty little features and mermaid-long hair, and soap-smell skin.

‘What’s this, a trial?’ I imagined Anaya in a German uniform.

‘No, of course not.’ Greg laughed to relax things a little.

‘You’re missing an abstract painting,’ Anaya said, keen to get back to the issue.

‘Which one?’ I asked, remembering that before I left Robin’s house in Neutral Bay I’d given Nick a painting in return for the coke I’d used.

‘The cube overlapping.’ She drew in the air with her finger. My mind went back to the kiss we had, and how I’d been able to tell how much she wanted to take things further, but didn’t dare.

Then I realised I’d be so shit scared if she did.

I said, ‘I don’t see how I can be missing one, it must be an error. I genuinely don’t know.’

I wasn’t sure why I didn’t just tell Greg and Anaya that I got wasted with some customers and lost track of things. I was sure they would understand – after all, it wasn’t as though they ran a typical boss-employer relationship, and Greg was out of it most of the time anyway – but I felt instinctively that I had to protect myself against any future uncertainties involving customers. I was also planning in the back of my mind that if I did stay on here a while, then surely I’d want to end up a supervisor, and losing paintings wouldn’t help my plans.

Anaya lit a cigarette, took a drag and gave it to Greg.

‘Look, we’re pretty relaxed here, aren’t we?’ she said, exhaling.

‘Yeah, of course.’

‘V-e-r-y,’ she drawled. I didn’t understand Anaya or what she was on. She was just so odd all of the time, like she was playing the part of a
femme fatale
in a really bad amateur production. ‘We have a good laugh, don’t we? I mean, it’s fun work, isn’t it? And it’s bloody easy, right?’

‘Yeah, of course.’ I relaxed a little.

‘And look, we know the score; it’s a bit rock ’n’ roll out there at times.’

‘Sure.’ I had already gone back to the pawnshop in my head.

‘But you can’t lose the paintings, you know. Otherwise you’ll just get yourself in debt to us and it won’t work out.’

I kept nodding.

‘Got me?’

‘Yeah, sorry. I really don’t know what happened.’

‘Look, forget about it, it’s happened before. But I’m going to have to charge you, mate, sorry.’ Greg did look genuinely sympathetic.

‘Or you can just work it off on another sale,’ added Anaya.

‘Yeah, why don’t you do that?’

‘OK.’

‘Well, it’s eighty bucks. Sorry, but that’s the score, yeah?’

‘Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll work it off, and I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.’

Greg didn’t seem too bothered now; he opened the blinds as the sound of a truck pulled up in the street.

‘Better not,’ said Anaya. ‘Or we will have to be bad to you in some other way.’

The doorbell rang. Greg left the office to answer it, and I was left alone with Anaya, my heart racing.

‘I’m sorry.’ I twisted on my grandmother’s ring, which felt tighter with the heat.

We looked at each other for a while in silence, before she said in a stern voice that brought me out of my trance, ‘Don’t let it happen again.’

I channel-flicked the portable TV on the kitchen worktop, while waiting for my toenail varnish to dry. Jim was alone outside on the back patio writing an airmail letter.

I watched some of the news, and wondered when Hank would call with any results. I was desperate to hear anything. How long would it take to find her? I wondered. Without looking very hard? I had never stopped to consider that she could be dead – that just wasn’t something I could cope with considering for one second. That would truly be the road to madness for me. Besides, I felt that she was very much alive somewhere. I wondered if she had children, and a job. I wondered if she smoked or drank like me. I wondered if, since I’d been here, she had watched the same Australian television programmes at the same time as me. Perhaps we were both watching the same news now, or the Joyce Cane carpet sale ads that seemed to come on television every five minutes.